


Pretty Little Thing

by Jester85



Series: The First Time-verse [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 1930s, Anal Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-27 19:13:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16225529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jester85/pseuds/Jester85
Summary: Bucky’s side of “The First Time”.  In which Bucky Barnes is out for a drink and maybe more after a long day at the docks and finds a pretty little thing who takes him home for maybe, just maybe, more than one night.





	Pretty Little Thing

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't sure whether to write this or not. I worried it might be redundant. But here it is.

Bucky Barnes needs a drink, because it’s been a long hot day at the docks in the long hot Brooklyn summer.

Bucky Barnes doesn’t necessarily  _need_ to get laid, though it’d be a welcome relief.  He is a guy, after all, not any more noble than any other guy, even if the person he’d prefer to get laid  _with_ might look a little different than those in the lustful imaginations of the guys he works with.

A quick stop at his modest flat to wash up, mostly his face and armpits—-he didn’t smell awful, but working at the docks all day doesn’t leave you smelling like a rose either—-and a change into a fresh clean shirt and trousers, and he was strolling jauntily out the door of his apartment building, tempering old Mrs. Grimmelmann’s chiding about his odd hours by flashing that smirk that no dames of any age seemed able to resist, that grin that took the whole world in with a wink and went right up to the line of being cocky without crossing into smug.  

 _Bucky Barnes,_ the girls whispered while he strolled by with a wink in his eye and a spring in his step.   _There he goes._

_Sorry gals..._

He strolls in the door of the bar he knows well, little hole-in-the-wall place but safe for guys like him, where ain’t nobody hurtin’ nobody and everyone’s just lookin’ for a nice time.

And then there’s a pretty little thing perched on a barstool, staring straight at Bucky with the biggest cornflower blue eyes Bucky’s ever seen, and suddenly he’s forgotten about that drink, because who is this guy and why has he never run into him before?

The kid—-no, a guy, Bucky mentally corrects, he looks to be about Bucky’s age despite his size—-is  _tiny,_ all of five feet tall and ninety pounds soaking wet, tousled straw hair falling down, but there’s a stern set to his jaw and a squareness to his narrow shoulders, and if Bucky didn’t know better, he’d say the guy is poised for a fight.

Bucky flashes his most disarming smile, he doesn’t know what this guy looks so defensive about, but Bucky’s getting the feeling this is definitely someone he wants to get to know a little bit.

The guy blinks, brow furrowing a bit, like he hadn’t expected that reaction, and Bucky is a little confused and a lot intrigued.

He saunters over, all easy assurance—-he’s a confident guy who knows what he wants and has always been comfortable approaching someone he’s interested in if he can be reasonably sure an advance isn’t gonna get him attacked by some queer-bashing jerks—-and he asks the guy’s name and gives his own, and the guy says his name is Steve.

 _Steve_.  Bucky rolls it around in his mouth, likes the sound of it.  Somehow he looks like a Steve.

He does get that drink after all, though right now he only has eyes for the pretty little thing perched in front of him, and Steve has one too, and they make a little chat, and Steve’s voice is surprisingly deep and those cornflower blue eyes are intense and serious on Bucky’s own, and Bucky senses with an exciting little tingle of anticipation that he might be getting in just a little over his head, and he wants to follow it as far as it'll go.

As far as it'll go turns out to be pretty far, considering he ends up standing naked as the day he was born in Steve's flat, a small, spartan apartment with mold on the walls and a stained ceiling, and Bucky frowns inwardly at that because that can’t be good for a guy like Steve, who’s clearly not the most robust fella to begin with, but this is definitely not the right time to be bringing it up.

As smoothly as things progressed from eye contact to making conversation to Steve taking him home, now that they're behind closed doors Steve suddenly seems timid, uncertain how to proceed.  Shy.

Bucky is not shy, he's done all this before and it ain't no big deal to him, and he shucks out of his clothes easily and casually, taking the plunge first if it makes it easier for Steve, letting Steve’s gaze roam over him and feeling that little electric tingle follow the movements of Steve’s eyes.

Steve is hesitant about joining Bucky though, slowly sliding his suspenders off his shoulders one at a time, and with each passing minute Bucky is getting more and more sure that Steve is a virgin.  He doesn’t mind, he can totally work with that, and he just stands and waits for Steve, smiling gently to let him know it’s okay.  Steve unbuttons his trousers, frowning down at his fingers fumbling with the buttons, and finally he’s in nothing but his underwear, ninety pounds soaking wet, delicate and pale and gorgeous, and Bucky just waits patiently.

Wide cornflower blue eyes rise, seek his out, hold them.  The air between them feels electric.  Steve squares up in that way Bucky is already learning to read, he’s found his courage, it’s now or never. Steve doesn’t break his gaze from Bucky’s as he slides his underwear down.

Steve isn’t huge down there, but he’s not shrimpy either, nothing to be ashamed of, even only half-hard with nerves.  Bucky likes to think he's pretty good at reading situations, and he's got a pretty good inklin' that for what they're fixin' to do, it ain't gonna matter how big Steve's dick is, but it's a nice bonus.

Steve turns off the lamp by his narrow cot and sprawls on his belly, almost looking like he’s going to sleep, except he’s burying his face in his pillow and pointin’ his ass in the air with an obviousness that makes Bucky bite his lip to keep a straight face, but if this is Steve’s first time, Bucky will follow his lead and give it to 'im however he wants it. He settles his weight carefully on the cot behind Steve, hands on his narrow hips, lifting them up, gently maneuvering Steve into position....

Bucky is startled when a hand is suddenly grabbing his own, stilling it, and  for a second he almost starts to pull back, get up, thinking Steve doesn’t want this, but Steve just turns over under Bucky, and those blues are looking up at him, blown wide with a mix of desire and panic, and Bucky just smiles reassuringly and gently tugs at Steve’s knees, lifting them up and kneeling between them.

Bucky moves slowly, telegraphing his motions like trying not to spook an alley cat, palming the jar of Vaseline to make it slick, and Steve inhales shakily when Bucky touches him.

Bucky applies a liberal amount to make it slick—-Steve is little and it’s his first time—-and finally he leans down, Steve folded up under him, until brown hair brushes against Steve’s golden straw, and Steve is still tense, eyes screwed shut in anticipation, but Bucky won’t move until he looks into those cornflower blues, until Steve gives him the green light.

Steve’s eyes open all at once, as if wondering what Bucky’s waiting for, and looks startled at the proximity of Bucky’s face directly above his own, foreheads almost touching.

For a moment, the little apartment around them and the whole city and the whole wide world beyond fades into nothing and it’s just them, gazes locked, and then Steve sets his jaw, furrows his brow, steels himself in that way Bucky is kind of fascinated with, and he reaches up, brings a hand around to clasp at the back of Bucky’s neck, and a twinge of admiration blooms in Bucky's chest as he lets Steve pull his mouth down to his.

Bucky lets the kiss linger for a minute, waits for Steve to lose himself in it a little bit, feel the man under him relax, a little of the tension leave him, before he decides it's time to just go for it.

Steve stiffens again when he feels Bucky start to enter him, but he holds the kiss, hard and determined, like it’s a fight and he refuses to concede.

He’s not surprised when Steve finally breaks the kiss, eyes screwed shut and a little groan escaping gritted teeth, because this is the hard part, especially the first time, but there’s not really any way around this, so Bucky just keeps going, moving his lips to Steve’s closed eye, cheek, the pale slender expanse of his neck, and then back up to his clenched mouth as he pushes into the clench of Steve’s tight warmth.

There’s a little resistance, both when he tries to keep kissin' Steve and what he's doin' a long ways south, but Steve ends up openin' up for him in both places.  The next kiss Bucky plants on his mouth, Steve meets it with determination.

Everything fades around them, and there’s just this little world, the headboard rocking against the wall, the rhythmic cream of bedsprings over shared pants of breath.  Steve kisses like it’s a fight, hard and hot, and Bucky can’t hold in the groan when Steve catches his bottom lip, holds it when Bucky tries to pull back, and Jesus, this little spitfire.  Bucky is running baseball games through his mind, because otherwise this is gonna be over sooner than he wants it to.

There's a throb of heat between them, Steve gripping Bucky's waist and trying to breathe normal, Bucky's hands on Steve's hips to give his thrusts leverage, showering kisses, hot and messy, down on Steve’s mouth and face, Steve rising up to meet them, kissing like the world will end if they stop.

Steve is a little hard to read again, after, but Bucky thinks it went okay.

Well, for himself, he knows it went more than okay.  He also knows he wants to see Steve again.

But he’s Bucky Barnes, so he plays it cool, pulling his pants on but shirtless, taking a post-coital drag on a cigarette and eyeing Steve shrugging his suspenders back on.

He feels loose and happy, and he can't help but look over at Steve and smile, and then kiss him square on the mouth, soft and sweet.

"Hey," he murmurs against kiss-swollen lips.  "I like you."

Steve frowns at him like Bucky just spoke Russian or somethin'.

_Of all the times for the Bucky Barnes charm to fail..._

He huffs an uneasy chuckle, hoping he didn't totally misread things, didn't do somethin' wrong in bed, isn't overstaying his welcome out of bed.

"You're not good at acceptin' compliments, are ya Stevie?"

He means it to come out light and teasing to cover his little flutter of nerves.  He doesn't totally mean for the pet name to slip off his tongue, but he can't say he minds either.

"Guess I'm not used to them," Steve says guardedly.  He's still eyeing Bucky like he's some puzzle he's trying to figure out.

_Not used to them?  That's a sin._

Bucky tilts his head, hair falling down in his knees, looking at Steve kinda the same way.  "How has no guy ever told you how fuckin' gorgeous you are?"

Steve stiffens all at once, hard lines and sharp edges, like Bucky just hit him or called him a fairy or somethin', and "Prolly cause it's bullshit," snaps out of his mouth in that surprisingly deep, forceful voice of his like a whipcrack.

 Bucky feels almost a little hurt, like Steve slapped him in the face, followed by a twinge of pity as he takes in this brave, feisty, gorgeous man in front of him, six feet of attitude in a five foot body.  "That may just the furthest thing from bullshit I have ever said in my life."

But Steve is riled up and in fight mode now, and he snaps, "That kinda talk get girls into bed, or just queers like me?"

 _Jesus, how many shitty guys have ya met, Stevie?_ "Well I dunno, Stevie," Bucky shoots back with a shrug and his best charming smirk, "I don't really like gettin' girls in bed, seein' as how I'm a queer too, which I woulda thought would be kinda obvious, considering...."  He trails off with a little nod toward the tangled sheets on the narrow cot where they'd been together.

Steve is frowning now, not so angry, more confused, brow furrowed, studying him intently.  "Is your real name Bucky?" he asks, and Bucky takes that as progress.

Bucky wipes his palm on his trousers before extending it to shake, knowing as he does that it's a little silly considering where he's already touched Steve, but Winifred Barnes raised her boy right, at least when it came to manners if not necessarily who she'd prefer him goin' to bed with.

"James Buchanan Barnes.  If you call me James, you'll be the only one besides my mama, and frankly Stevie, I dunno if I want that association in my head."

Steve eyes his hand for a long, lingering moment, like it's gonna bite him, and then shakes firmly.  "Steve Rogers."

"Steve, I'd like to take you out on a date," Bucky says smoothly, into the opening.

Steve opens his mouth, closes it.  Blinks.  "You.  Want.  To take me out.  On a date."

Bucky shrugs, grins a little sheepishly.  "What can I say, I'm a sucker for pretty little things with some spit and vinegar in 'em."

"I'm not a girl," Steve snaps, kneejerk.

"Um, yea, I did happen to notice, Stevie..." Bucky drawls dryly.

"I mean, I'm not gonna be some replacement girl," Steve snaps, sounding a little desperate, "I'm not gonna be your _pretty little thing_ for you to pretend we're normal people."

Bucky looks at the desperation and confusion swirling in Steve's eyes, suddenly softer, more vulnerable, and he feels himself melt a little bit.  "Stevie.  I don't want a girl.  I want you.  And we are normal people.  What we did in that bed felt normal as anythin' to me, and I hope it did for you too.  Did it?"

Steve ponders it over for a moment, Bucky hangin' on his answer, hopin' to God he didn't misread the cues, that he didn't push somethin' on Steve that the guy didn't like, that he totally turned Steve off.  "Yes," Steve finally says, like a grudging confession.

Bucky is not ashamed of his exhale of relief.  "Well I'm glad to hear it, Stevie.  'Cause I don't want to do somethin' that isn't wanted."

Steve looks at him thoughtfully.  Sets his jaw and squares his little shoulders.  Bucky tenses for whatever's comin', then lets out a little breath in surprise when Steve cups his face, pulls it down so their mouths meet, arms winding around Bucky's neck, and Bucky sighs into Steve's mouth.

"So where we goin' on that date?" Steve asks when they're done, tone cocky and teasing, blue eyes sparking.

Bucky might be a little bit in love.  He's grinning so wide it hurts when he dives back in to taste Steve's sweet lips again.

Steve kisses back.

They might not end up getting around to that date for a while.  Neither of them minds too much.

 

 


End file.
